


il gusto della memoria

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedannibal in Florence, F/M, Why visit museums when you can have gelato?, bedannibalprompts, first days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: “I would love to show you around,” Hannibal lets his lips brush over her earlobe, sending shivers racing down her spine.“I would like that,” she turns her head slightly to look at his face and finds him smiling.





	il gusto della memoria

“We are gazing on thousands of years of history, written in stone and marble. It has not changed at all.”

Hannibal stands behind Bedelia as she perches on the balcony, looking at the city spreading below them. The purple bruise of the sun fades below the horizon, giving way to gentle shimmer of yellow flickers, lighting up the cluster of buildings.

“It is beautiful,” Bedelia feels his arm wrapping firmly around her waist. Such displays of affection still seem strange to her, but unexpectedly pleasant. She gently presses her back to his chest, relishing the new sensation.

“I have many fond memories of this city. Have you visited it before?” his voice is soft, vibrating against her skin as he leans in closer.

“A long time ago, only briefly.”

It was a part of an ill-fated family holiday to Italy; the only thing she recalls now is her mother’s constant complaints about the heat and her sister’s annoyance with the excess of museums. She had long wished to return here someday and see it properly, but she had never anticipated it would be under such _extraordinary_ circumstances.

“I would love to show you around,” Hannibal lets his lips brush over her earlobe, sending shivers racing down her spine.

“I would like that,” she turns her head slightly to look at his face and finds him smiling.

It was not what she had considered when she left Baltimore with him, and she finds herself eagerly awaiting it all.

 

She wakes up the following morning to the sound of church bells and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. She opens her eyes and sees Hannibal standing by the bed with a steaming cup in his hand.

“Good morning,” he smiles and places the cup on her bedside table, before leaning forward and kissing her softly.

Bedelia hums in response and glances at the coffee. He anticipates all her needs perfectly, even the ones she had not realised she had, she concludes with the feel of his lips still tingling on hers.

“We could start exploring the city today. It is a gorgeous day,” Hannibal’s gaze turns to the open window and Bedelia’s eyes follow, watching the sun rays spill on the floor in a keen invitation.

“I thought you have work engagements to attend to,” they have only just arrived here, and she is certain there are formalities that need to be completed.

“I can do that later. I would rather spend my day with you,” he sits next to her as she sips her coffee and brushes a loose strand of hair off her cheek.

Bedelia had never imagined sharing her bed with someone, let alone this, but now she sinks into the domesticity with a surprising ease.

“Unless you would like some time alone,” to Bedelia’s dismay, the hand moves away.

The shells of their new boundaries are still fresh and fragile as they both step lightly, afraid to crack them.            

“No, I want to see the city,” she shifts closer to him and watches his face light up in an uncommon way.

She had never known there was so much light in the darkness.

 

Bedelia slips on a light magenta dress, unsure what outfit goes best with sightseeing and not knowing what Hannibal had planned for today. Her heels sound almost nervous against the bare floors as she leaves the bedroom and finds him already waiting for her by the door. He beams at her brightly, surrounded by a dense air of excitement.

As they step outside, the city welcomes them with a flurry of heat, pouring vigorously from the sky. Hannibal offers his arm and Bedelia slides her hand on the now familiar place.

Their walk is unrushed as they slowly take in their surroundings, passing locals carrying on with their daily routine and groups of tourists attempting to find their bearings in the intricate maze of the streets. The copula of the Duomo crowns the city, visible from almost everywhere, like a silent beacon for the lost.

They manoeuvre the narrow streets with ease as Hannibal guides them with a clear purpose. Bedelia keeps her eyes on the cathedral, convinced that must be their first stop. But to her surprise, they suddenly turn in the opposite direction, leaving it behind them.

“I thought we are going to see the cathedral,” she says, feeling uncertain.

“We will see it all,” Hannibal reassures her, pulling her closer as to avoid a passing cyclist, “But I thought we could start with something else.”

He offers no other explanation, his love for the dramatic always present and Bedelia’s gaze turns sceptical. They pass another of many churches, but that also seems of no interest to Hannibal. Bedelia begins to wonder what place is the most-worthy of his presence, surely not cheap leather, she gathers, as they approach a market place with great many sellers attempting to attract tourists with their “quality” products. But that is left behind them as well, as Hannibal turns right into a small alley.

“We are here,” he states in a satisfied voice and Bedelia follows his eyes to see a red neon sign under a small gelateria.

“An ice cream place?” she blinks as if it were a mirage and would transform into something else any second now.

“Yes. The best gelato in Florence. The place looks exactly as I remembered it, although it was less _popular_ then,” he adds, giving the flock of tourists a disapproving stare, but joining the queue nonetheless.

“ _Ice cream_?” Bedelia repeats the words as though that would give them more sense.

“Don’t you like ice cream?” he asks with instant worry.

“No, I do, it is just-” her voice drifts off as she searches for the right words.

“This was one of my favourite places when I was a student here. I wanted to share it with you,” he explains while his face turns suddenly shy.

Bedelia closes her mouth, swallowing the comment that was forming on her tongue. She has expected a detailed tour through the history of the city, but instead, she has been given a glimpse into his past. She looks at him softly, taken by his admission, a gentle smile pulling at her lips.

“Their crema nocciola needs to be tasted,” Hannibal continues, encouraged by her reaction.

Bedelia’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“What is it?” he asks instantly, noticing the shift in her eyes and this time Bedelia averts her gaze in an unforeseen timidity.

They have discussed so many things over the years, matters of life and death, but talking about something so normal makes her feel somehow exposed.

“I prefer raspberry,” she admits, glancing at him briefly.

She has only revealed her favourite ice cream flavour, but it feels like she has revealed herself.

“Raspberry,” Hannibal repeats the word with care, as if it were a spell he intended to memorise fully, “Anything you wish.”

They finally arrive at the counter and Hannibal places the order in his immaculate Italian, making Bedelia smile again. He soon turns with two cups in his hand, extending one in her direction, an inviting scoop of vivid pink. It is nothing like the elaborate dishes they usually share, but this offering feels more significant.

They savour their gelato as they continue to stroll around the sun-drenched city. Bedelia dips her spoon in with gusto, the taste as excellent as she was promised. Hannibal recounts the tales of his youth here and she listens intently, sometimes giving bits of information about herself, and she can see him absorbing them all with relish.

They spend the day enjoying more than their first taste of the Italian desserts. They share a first real taste of each other.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was conceived from my nostalgia for Florence and eternal regret that we did not get to see them strolling around the city together (you know they did, a lot).  
> The gelateria they visit is called Perché No! (with an exclamation mark, yes) and is indeed famous for their crema (I had pistachio, delicious). It was recommended in my guide book, but I like to think Hannibal discovered it before the tourists. I have hard time imagining him dealing with the crowds altogether.  
> Bedelia's favourite ice cream flavour headcanon borrowed from kmo, thank you ♥


End file.
